He was my own Peter Pan, my own lost boy, my own. He was the man who never left his boyhood, but did only things a man could do. How could a boy do these things he has done? How could a boy be a monster? In a way, he was evil, in a way, he was good, full of joy and life, full of hatred and despair. He just never wanted to grow up; he just never wanted to leave that state in his mind that let him feel safe. If he did, maybe he would have truly become a monster. My Peter Pan became my Captain Hook.

She walked, her strides even but fast-paced in order to avoid the mingling strangers in front of her. Strolling along wearing skinny black jeans with frayed white knees and a fitted shirt that happened to also be black, that was just what she was known for. Black. Outcast by others according to her appearance. She wanted nothing more than to feel love and acceptance from anyone. A friend, a family member, anyone who showed interest, her neglect from family and friends did not make her cold, other than in the sense she had some sort of a disliking and distrust of the world. She didn’t need physical love, that was something she was never given, she wanted a kind of love that would just bring her happiness. Approval even is what she longed for. Teachers and coaches praised her for attitude and physical along with mental ability, but she wanted more. Wanted it from someone real to her, someone she needed it from.  She couldn’t be touched; it was something she had hated always since she was a child, the feeling of someone touching her frightened her and made things very uncomfortable. Touching was not something she could handle from anyone. But no, she was not cold. She longed for a friend, longed a companion. Anyone. Not normally being concerned with her attire in the presence of others the two strangers interacting casually in front of her caused some sort of an alarm. What could it be? Her gait was forced, it always really had been. Her posture was erect forcing her under-developed bust upward and out. Never given the grace of a true woman, she lacked many things men her age found attractive. Her waist was average the body of an athlete but too mannish in a way that was discomforting. Her hair covered her breast long and blond with streaks of black. Black. That was always her thing wasn't it?

The two men in front of her, now closer, their images begin to focus and voices become clear. There was a man standing on the porch of a blue house plan but that was not her concern, not her focus, not what drawn her attention. The man on the path in front of her, that, that is who she wanted.

He was tall compared to her, she only just over five feet tall, his torso seemed to be the longer half of his body, his hair blond and fair but seemed slightly darker under his hat, maybe it was just the shade, she wasn’t sure. His hair only reached the tips of his ears to at least the middle of his face, his hat seemed to cover his face but as he turned she could see it more clearly. Light blue eyes, they seemed almost crystal, they were beautiful, the most alluring eyes she had ever seen. His cheek bones seem crafted the rest of his face sculpted and smooth. Stubble scratched the base of his chin, what suddenly drew her attention from those piercing blue eyes was that unrecognizable markings on his neck, the left side. His dress was bagging and torn, surely not fit for his looks. He wore blue jeans that hung loosely on his shaped hips slightly beginning to sag, his shirt hung just above the hem almost showing the pointed curves of his pelvis. Across his shoulders he bore a rake of some sort,

was he raking leaves here?

As she passed the attractive young man her memory took place, never before had she thought she would have a real encounter with him but here he was, he had been the man who lived across the road. He wasn’t always there but when he was it seemed he casually would be smoking a cigarette in the yard or raking leaves, sometimes even shoveling snow. Never before had she seen him so close, he truly was a sight.

Were the rumors true?

Many things have been said about him but she could not remember his name, he always been referred to as something else.

A monster

She walked on, now passing the two minglers and a tall tree on the corner, he began to walk behind her, his stride seemed calm but somehow he was in front of her within minutes. Glancing at her phone casually trying not to draw attention to herself almost missing his words to her. “Hey, I’ve seen you before.” his voice as he says this is even, calm, but uncomfortably loud, at the same time it seems too soft. Maybe this is because talking to strangers she found uncomfortable and unnecessary, it was odd to speak out of turn and with no other noise, it made things louder than normal to her ears.

   
Has he really seen me before? I didn’t think he ever noticed me, no one seems to.

“You wanna hang out sometime? Give me your number, I’ll call you.”

How odd he was, he didn’t seem to care how out of turn he was or the fact we didn’t even know each other.

Somehow, for some reason, she liked this. After administering the number to this kind handsome stranger, she watched. Watched carefully and quietly as he walked away.

He didn’t even write it down? Will he even call? Why did I do that?

Not knowing what she had just done, she gazes off after the man who soon will become her savior and destroyer.

    She had become accustomed to the heat, regardless of temperature or dress of those around her, she always wore black. Black sweaters, sweat shirts, shirts, pants, shoes. Everything. Since a young age this color became a comfort to her, slaughtering her hair always with numerous colors and shades of grey to red to purple. Everything was outrageous and different with her. She loved her long, thick, glossy hair. Killing is was almost like killing a part of her, somehow, she found comfort in this as well. The power to kill a part of herself, without truly dying. During this time it had been a bright golden blonde, her natural color remaining underneath somehow, over time it had resurrected itself. Black and red highlights traced her scalp to the ends of her tips. Her body was a way to express herself and her feelings without truly speaking to anyone. This, this is what she liked, what she was comfortable with.

    Walking across town was a normal costume for her, she loved to walk, it gave her a sense of peace in some way. Running is what she really enjoyed but walking gave her a chance to be calm gave her a chance to think. Now, walking home, she had been gone for several hours, she began to contemplate the idea of trying to see the stranger again. To her he was beautiful, no matter what they said no matter what his tattoos covered. He looked beautiful. Turning onto her street she closes her eyes and breaths slowly. Slowing her pace she wants to make this last, wants to make her thoughts last until she enters her home where she can no longer be herself, where she is discriminated against, a home where she is not allowed to be herself. Growing up in a Christian family, a family so strict if they knew anything about her true thoughts how she really felt, they would ban her from the house. Not like her parents already didn’t want to do that. She was different, she was dark, she was considered the devil, when she really just wanted to be herself. This is how she felt the only way she could show her true self without getting punished. Her only punishment she ever received was neglection. To her, maybe that was worse than death.

    The steps outside her house are grey, grey and cracked, the door a beautiful bright red, it was the kinda red that screams look at me look at me, we’re the perfect family.

Are we even a family?

She wonders this every time she passes this dreadful door.

Are we a real family?

Breathing in once again trying to calm and cool herself before entering the falsehood household she is bound to spend the next two years. Almost immediately upon entering she is welcomed by a smell so revolting she wishes to turn and run, run to the safety of the park, just run. The smell is familiar but never was comforting,

how can someone find comfort in such a thing?

Alcohol was something this family was not open about but something that was also not hidden very well. No one outside the house knew of the abuse that went on every night, no one knew and was never going to. Not if her father had anything to do with it.

    Eyes blazing with intoxication her father stumbled over his own feet as he approached her. Wincing in fear she turns her head and her hair falls over her paling face. “YOU LITTLE ***** WHERE THE **** HAVE YOU BEEN!” his voice is like thunder creating an earthquake in her head, she prays for the ground to split open and swallow her whole. It does not. Attempting to move past the over grown man who she once called daddy, she moves herself into her room. Tears begun to prick her eyes and sting her face as they flood from the ocean blue sockets. Her family preaches of God, respect, love, faith, purity, all that you can think of. But where is theirs? Where is their love, their respect, their faith, their purity? Growing up in a family that covers themselves in Christ and surrounds themselves by church you would think her mother and father would take it upon themselves to strive for perfection not mask their sins with a disguise of perfection. This is something she can never understand, we are all sinners sure, but why hide it from everyone?

Why hide yourself. Is that what I do? Do I hide myself?

Thinking to herself as she falls to the floor with a soft gentle thud, crying herself it sleeps she begins to drift off.

    Waking on the cold, hard, wooden floor of her bedroom she shivers. Cold, but fully dressed, she slowly picks herself up. Sleepy and dreadfully, she walks to the bed. Sitting down she wants to collapse but knows within the next two hours the school bus will be arriving. Slipping off her shoes she begins the long stroll to the bathroom down the hall, stepping into the welcoming shower, as she washes her hair her body feels relief. When done in the bathroom she exits to her room with only an hour left until the bus arrives. Time to get to work. Brushing the tangles out of her long thick hair she dresses slowly but eagerly into a pair of acid washed skinny jeans and a black v-neck, grabbing a hoodie plastered with splatter paint she brushes her hair once again drying it as she does. Once dry with only ten minutes to spare she looks into the mirror questioning her appearance.

Yep, I’m going to change it up today…

She ponders the idea to herself, weighing the options. Thinking nothing could go wrong she pulls the thick mangled hair into a loose high ponytail leaving nothing but chopped slanted bangs hanging down the side of her round pale face. Five minutes left she grabs her things and moves to the front lawn, the bus arrives as she reaches the street, waiting her turn to climb the mountain of steps to the cold leather seats. Finally, she takes her turn and is seated by herself near the front of the bus, this is where she is comfortable.

    “Hey Freak! Showing your ugly face today huh?” A loud masculine voice taunts from the back of the bus. “Geese metal head much?” Another but more high pitched squeaks from a few rows back, a girl. Not thinking she grabs the metal rings and bars that stick out of her ears, she always liked them, thought they symbolized her, never before had anyone seen her with her hair up.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Thinking this over to herself in the back of her mind she tries to focus on the road ahead, only a few more miles to go and it’ll be over. Turning the music up louder on her iPod the music rings through her ears, she can almost feel her ear drums cracking with every pound from the miniature stereos. The bus slowly reaches the school, deciding to wait until everyone else is off, which after she regrets. As fellow peers pass her seat she is smacked vigurously with bags and books by football players and cheerleaders, even one of the outcast puts a piece of gum on her ear phones.

     An outcast from the outcast

she breathes to herself. Stumbling down the steps to the pavement leading its way into the shallow hole they call a school building, the minutes begin to tick slowly by.

    The final bell rings as she breathed with relief. She stays in her seat until everyone including the teacher leaves the room. She likes being alone but somehow she wishes she was never alone, being alone isn’t safe. Rushing to her locker in order to make the bus home she opens it without thinking, without a warning a massive pile of papers spills out, polluting the floor in a massive heap. She turns and gasps as the shock of the papers floods over her feet. Reading one closest to her feet she picks it up. An ogur with piercings all over it’s face, covered in warts with ripped clothes is covering the sheet, it reads across the top METAL FACE TROLL. Tears prick her eyes, not knowing who for sure would do this she starts to pick up the papers. Not wanting anyone to see them she piles them on top of each other and finds a trash can. Throwing them into the black square hole she heads towards the double doors exiting the building. The bus has left her behind, now forced to walk home she begins the long journey.

    Walking home she plugs into her iPod, the music rings once again throughout her head, it gives relief to her, to feel the pain from something she loves, isn’t that always what happens? She gets pain from everyone she loves so why not love something that gives you pain. The music is something that can surrounds her without feeling lost. Starting out slow she soon begins to pick up the pace, not realizing her strides are picking up she looks straight forward tunnel vision almost taking over. The music pumping louder, her pace becoming faster, all she wants to do is run. Debating it in her mind before she even makes the decision, she, runs, into, him.

    Wow, he is broad, hard, even…

She barely finishes her thoughts before she begins to stutter out loud, but he stops her. She begins to thank whatever gods there may be for keeping her quiet. “First real meets are always fun, huh? I like your hair up. It looks nice, shows your face. Turn your head I want to see your earnings.”

He speaks so plainly, likes he has known me forever, why is he so comfortable? Jease just calm down.

She collects her thoughts before slowly turning her head, feeling awkward as she does, but also feeling fear that he will touch her. She did not like being touched. Thankfully he does not. “Nice, I like them. Where are you going?” as he ask this his head tilts like a child, barely being able to hide the foolish grin that spreads across her face she manages to peep out something just higher than a whisper, “Home.” “I’ll walk with you” he chimes happily, he truly reminds her of a little boy so happy to meet new people so happy and eager. The two begin the long walk homeward, however, their paths lead them somewhere completely different, somewhere, new for her but so strangely familiar.

    Arriving at her house the two begin to part ways, she glances at him but then begins to stare as he slowly begins to light a cigarette. The smell stings her eyes, they start to water as the smell fills her nostrils. She never liked the smell but this was different, somehow more appealing.

Is it because it is him?

She weighs the ideas in her head as he waves and walks away. Staring in his direction she becomes a stature, when he looks back at her the spell is broken and she enters the house.

He smokes? He doesn’t smell like smoke, what does he smell like? I can’t tell…

before finishing her thoughts a car door slams in the driveway, bolting to her room she almost trips over her own feet. At a loss for words, at a loss for concentration, just at a loss, homework becomes a constant struggle for her when her mind keep wondering, wondering to the cracks in the wall, wondering to her phone, wondering to the image in the back of her mind of him, wandering to her hair, wondering to her looks, wandering to her true feeling deep down inside. Her thoughts just keep wondering until they are finally free and she falls hard on her face into the soft surface of her pillow. That is what you get for wondering, you just fall.

    1:00 AM her phone begins to blare some sort of lyric out of the speakers from the late 90’s waking her and almost everyone in the surrounding household. Scrambling out of bed jumping to the nightstand she panics and answers the phone in a rushed whisper, “what…” it was him, now she really panics.

Why is he calling? What does he want? Where is he? What time is it?

a whirlpool of question circle through her mind but she is stopped and all color drains from her face as he speaks, “Hey, baby, what you doing? You wanna hang out tomorrow? Come out tonight I want to see you. Please? For me?” he almost slurs his words as he stumbles in speech.

Is he drunk? Has he been drinking? Is he on something? What is happening? I don’t understand. What does he want with me?

Again she is lost within herself, lost with what to do or say, she has never encountered something like this. “I… I don’t know..” her childish stutter rises up.

Stop stuttering get ahold of yourself, you can do this.

“Come on baby..” he begins to plead but her uneasiness is starting to make her sick. “T-T-Tomorrow, if I S-S-Skip school, do y-y-you want me to c-c-come over?” she whispers again with a stutter, scolding herself once again his voice breaks her concentration. “YES! COME OVER! Text me when you get up and ready and I will call you. Please baby come over. I want to see you so bad.” his tone is relaxed and easy, he sounds again like a little boy excited for Christmas.

Who can say no to this?

she smiles but it does not reach her eyes, it soon fades as he says his goodbyes, “I have to go, see you tomorrow.” his voice fades and is followed by a beep. He is gone, and she again is left alone, alone. 3:00 sleep taunts her but does not give relief. Giving up she makes her plan for the day.
What will I do…

    She sleeps in not kind, her body feels dead, numb almost. Her mother yells and pounds on the wooden door barricading her from entering with a silver chain. Not wanting to push it too far she climb out of bed sagging her body toys with her hair slightly and rubs her eyes. Faking a cough and gag as she opens the door and exclaims her refusal to go to school. “Do what you want I don’t care, it’s your problem not mine but you have to go at some point. Maybe if you weren’t so different the kids would like you there. I never had any trouble in school neither did your father. Do your homework if you aren’t going.” her mother nagging as she digs the too large of a phone for her pocket out and dials the number for the school. Dragging her feet she climbs back into bed and waits for the house to be clear to make her escape.

    Alone in the house the silence echoes off the walls and rings through her ears invading her mind.

Home alone, let me shower and get dressed. Tell you when?

She text him and before waiting for the response she rushes into the bathroom, grabbing clothes as she exits she wraps her hair in a towel. Dressing in a hurry she throws on a pair of purple and white splatter paint jeans black converse and a white tank top, texting him once again as she slips on her hoodie from the day before.

Ready when you are.

Waiting for the reply she counts the minutes as they tick slowly by, nervous and feeling dangerous, she contemplates the idea of putting her hair up again. She liked the way he looked at her the day before, she liked him noticing her. Drying her hair she looks herself in the mirror undicifi on what to do next, deciding on straightening her hair she brushes out the tangles and begins her work steadily. Once finished she splashes on eye liner, mascara, and a hint of smokey eye. Still unsatisfied she brushes her hair into a high ponytail leaving her bangs hang in front of her face, it has been two hours since she has texted him. Waiting nervously, she paints her nails in boredom but also to keep her mind busy. Fearing to be rejected once again, but by him, by this stranger, by this person she suddenly has unknown feelings for? That, that just might be the death of her.

Suddenly, the phone rings. She jumps in the middle of testing her nail polish, without thinking she answers the phone in a rush. “H-h-hello..” she stutters out, “Hey, coming over?” his voice almost sounds like it is mocking her, she can almost see his wicked smile and head tilt. “S-s-sure…” she pips out quickly, hanging up the phone she dashes to the door almost ripping off the hinges she she slams it. Taking a cooling breath she strolls across the street to the far house on the corner, plan, white, average size for a one story, yet something seemed off. Something just didn’t feel right but something also just felt so safe, it couldn’t be wrong. She lifts her hand to knock but before her knuckles reach the door it opens. “Hey, you have to take your shoes off.” he stares at her but not exactly at her as he says this. She looks on in bewilderment, “Come on in.” he says this a little more at ease, when she enters he returns to his childish self and she feels safe once again.

    He’s shirtless

    She finally takes notice upon entering the house, that is all she sees. Him.

        Muscular, wow he has more tattoos? He is pale, not like me… but paler than I though. Has he always walked like that? He is walking almost with a limp?

    Interrupting her own thoughts she tries to focus. The house is plain and well kept, very neat, furnished with older things around the living room and walls along with the kitchen. It is just very tidy.

        This is not what I expected, not even close…. What did I expect? i don’t even remember….

    Stopping herself she looks at him again, his is standing against the wall, leaning one arm on it waiting for me to enter some room. “This is my room, well it is when I stay here.” he has this goofy look on his face and an odd tone as he says this, his eyes are dark but he continues to smile. She enters but is stopped in her tracks when she sees how clean it is, how old fashioned even. The bed is made and neat, the walls are plan the carpet feels soft and clean. There is only two small tabled a lamp, a clock, and a radio on the floor. In the corner lays a duffle bag, dark blue. On one table sits cigarettes, a lighter, a wallet, and pills. A razor cooly joins them as her eyes begin to wander once more. The clock sits on the other under it a lamp. Her thoughts are racing but she isn’t sure why, there is nothing confusing or strange, it just doesn’t seem him.

        Had I had him all wrong? What does this mean? Maybe it doesn’t mean anything? What is happening…. I don’t understand for some reason, I just don’t understand what I think or how I feel.

    Unable to collect herself he pulls her into an embrace, immediately she panics. She pushes him her breathing quickened unable to gain self control she feels the urge to run. Run far away, just run, run from him. She pushes again and falls on the floor, bolting out of the room frightened she heads towards the kitchen but is lost almost instantaneously.

        Why did he have to touch me? I scared him, he won’t want me now, he won’t want me here. He hates me… What have I done…

    Tears begin to prick her eyes and almost spill over when he enters the room. She feels shameful and embarrassed as he looks at her. “Why did you do that….” his face is almost hurt, all playfulness gone, his eyes are dark blue no longer crystal but a stormy ocean. Pain, like he has been kicked in the stomach or slapped across the face burns in his eyes like lightning. “ I-i-i don’t k-k-know…. I-i-i’m s-s-s-sorry…” the stutter worsens as she flusters. “I-i-i-i d-d-didn’t...m-m-mean t-t-t-to…” almost losing herself in her tears she looks away. She breaths and tries to calm herself, closing her eyes she steadies herself. Breathing out slowly eyes still closed, “I didn’t mean to run, I have a problem with being touched.” almost losing it and beginning to stutter once again, “I-i-i’m really sorry, I didn’t expect it, I-i-i-i never l-l-liked being touched. P-p-please d-d-d-don’t b-b m-m-mad a-a-a-a-a-at m-m-me-eee…” trailing off her bra decades collapse and she breaks. Tears spill and fall like rain off her face as his stormy eyes clash with lightning once again as she opens her eyes and looks up. Her ears roar with thunder and the ground begins to shake and twist under her feet. “Don’t ever run from me, again. I didn’t mean to scare you, don’t run from me….” His voice is soft and quiet but seems to shake her ear drums with a force so great it is deafening. Looking at him with tearful eyes his face changes, soon the ocean calms and the lightning cools, he cocks his head to one side and grins. All play again.

        How can he change his mood so quickly… I hope he isn’t mad…

    Leaving the house later just an hour in time before her parents get home she lets out a cooling breath to relax herself and drifts off to sleep again. She needs to let them think she has been sick and home this whole time. Right before the car door slams she leans over the bed to the garbage can and vomit vigorously, all her emotions and pain escape her in one final blow her body rejecting everything.

Weeks pass she has not seen him in nearly two months, growing eager and concerned she scared him off school becomes a struggle. All social relations she had at all are broken and her connections to reality cut off. Nights are long and sleepless, picking up habits she hoped to have dropped years ago come reaching up out of the ground once again, resurrecting her old forgotten skills and training. Drawing his face over and over again on pieces of paper but never being pleased with the end result, she draws every feature every limb everything she can remember of him praying not to forget him not to forget his face or his voice.

    If only I could draw what he sounds like, if only I could get it right….

    Heart broken and in despair she is left with little options to cope with her lose of her new found friend, she dies her hair yet again, purple. The same color her nail has been the day she went to his house last. Purple. Reminiscing she drifts off…

        “Your nails are purple, I like it. It looks good on you, you know it’s my favorite color?”

    Hearing him say this gave her butterflies. She longed for him, for his approval, never before had she wanted someone to like her so much, buying purple hair dye from the local store she went to work on her hair. Two hairs later her hair had been finished, perfect she was happy. Looking herself over before bed she brushed it high into a ponytail and dreamed of him, just like every night before that.

    Checking the local social media the next day she discovered a post from him finally, the latest post in weeks. Overjoyed and excited she quickly flip to his page.

Me and my lost boys are tearin it up tonight, can’t ever stop us. We do what we want and leave when we please. I am a lost boy and you can’t catch me.

This post made her stop and think, it confused her, but it also made perfect sense in some way.

He is a lost boy, my lost boy.

laughing to herself she quickly typed a message to him, hoping, praying he will answer.

Can Wendy join her lost boy? Oh, Peter, Peter, where are you? You left your shadow!

Once again laughing to herself, pleased with her little joke. She is beginning to wonder minutes later if he will understand, if he will get the little inside joke. Later that night she dreams of a little old boy running around in the night with his friends with his shadow forgotten behind. As she drifts to sleep she really begins to think that she has her own Peter Pan and for sure that he has left his shadow behind.

        At least I have his shadow, at least I have it, a piece of him. Forever.

    The weekend begins slow, oversleeping which is something she never has really done. She wakes with a smile on her face but first annoyed with the loud buzzing coming from her pillow. It’s him.

Come out tonight and see me. Meet you at your window. First star on the right and straight on time moring.

Giddy with glee she hurries with her thumbs skidding across the keyboard.

See you tonight, I can’t wait. =)

Minutes later she waits and there is no response, a slight pout plastered across her face she begins her day. Finding herself daydreaming about him constantly she scolds herself into doing her work so she can sneak out tonight. Just a few hours until the meetup time she showers, dresses, and paints makeup on her face. Straightening her hair she looks in the mirror and tries to decide what else to do. Something feels wrong and she has a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, so unsure, and so indecisive, she looks on in confusement, wondering what is wrong. Deciding on putting her hair up once again she brushes it high and tightens the pony tail.

Maybe if it’s tight I won’t think about this so much. I just need to relax, it’s not a big deal.

Taking a deep breath she brushes her teeth for the fifth time since he texted worrying that something is wrong. The minutes turn into hours the hours seem long, really long. Waiting and waiting she begins to pace and fidget. Forcing herself away from the clocks but keeping her phone in her pocket in order to hear it ring incase he calls. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the window.

“Hey baby.”
   
She freezes, her heart pounding in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins but draining from her face, she feels cold but too warm all at once. Panicking not knowing what to do or say she quickly sprays more perfume on and hurries to the window. Another deep breath and she opens it.

    “Come outside, please?”

His voice is intoxicating, his breath smells of liquor and cigarettes, but she doesn’t mind. How can she mind? She never used drugs, never liked them, but him? He was her drug. He cocks his head to one side like a little boy with a foolish grin on his face.

    “Like out out? Outside? Where are we going? Why?”

Nervous sweat begins to leak from her pores, thoughts start racing through her head. Slowly and unsure, she makes her decision.

    “Okay. Help me move the window.”

She says this with uneasiness but with a certain form of certainty. He hurries pulling the straps off the frame as she pushes the window, it flies off. The cold wind welcomes her face and she breaths in the crisp air. Grabbing a stick of gum she hops out the window with his help, the grass brushes her ankle as her pant leg rides up. It tickles and itches, but the feeling is numb, maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the cold, maybe it’s the intoxication. Who knows.

Walking off down the street, her heart is racing once again, the adrenaline kicking through her body and blood rushing through her ears creating a roaring sound as her feet seem to loud on the pave road ahead. Not able to focus on just one thing he decides to focus on him. That was her favorite thing to do when they walked together, to walk in front of him and watching him. He hated this, she never knew why, but he hated her staring at him. She just couldn’t help it, she loved to just look. Walking in front of him although she knew not where they were going, she looked at his face in the darkness with only the full moon for light. The night seemed beautiful, a peaceful fog kissed the ground and the moon lit up the night with a dim glow, it was breath taking. Nothing was more breath taking than her Peter Pan, what a sight. Her lost boy was leading her away, something she had been dreaming of all the nights he had been gone but his lonely showdown kept her company no matter what. It seemed to her they walked for hours, she didn’t really mind though, she was walking with him. They walked and walked and walked until they reached the old park she loved to go and sit. There was a baseball diamond on the far side of the park blocked off from the rest. Slowly they made their way up the paved pathway to the park ahead.

The mood and the night began to change. His eyes, his walk, his stature was all different. His smell grew stronger as the wind distilled, alcohol stained his clothes and cigarettes his breath and some other aromo drifted about him. His gate was hard almost forced to be calm, his eyes looked darker, nothing like the stormy sea, nothing like the crystal blue, nothing she had seen before. His pupils seemed to have taken over his eye but a dark brim blue circled it. His eyes consumed with blackness, as she looked at him she wondered what his intentions of the night would be, but how can he do anything  horrid? He’s no Hook.

He walked her to the edge of the park, leading her off of the playset closer to the field.

        “What are we doing here?”

She ask barely above a whisper but even that feels amplified through speakers in her ears. He says nothing, the air around them feels cold, the grass tickles her ankles as they enter the field, passing through the gate he leads her in front of him. Uneasiness turns her stomach. Bringing her to the grass he throws his hat, never before had she seen him without it, he was beautiful, scary but beautiful. His charm was of a child, chiseled cheekbones, and smooth lips, a thin upper and thicker lower, they were a perfect shade of pale pink. He lay by his hat looking up at the stars, he breaths in slowly and begins to exhale as he speaks.

        “Lay with me.”

He says this plainly but once more tilts his head to the side and his hair spreads across his brow. His smile is simple and does not reach his eyes, somehow she feels welcomed. Hesitating at first she watches his eyes grow darker and his pupils ripple, she hesitates no longer and sits. The grass itches her skin as the dew damps her pant legs, the leaves rustle around her, one gets caught in her hair as she moves to lay down. Her head now in the grass, it tickles her neck. There is no warning when he moves, no sign, nothing.

His body leaps over hers with one swift movement, she sees nothing at first but his arm in the corner of her eyes. She is pinned. His rough immense hands lay at her cheeks, one moves quickly into her hair she guesses to remove the leaf, he does not. Pulling hard and rough at her tight roots she gasp in surprise. The other hand moves so fast she barely even sees it, barely even feels it. He pulls hard on her hair and squeezes her throat. Air escapes her, her head becomes light and ear pop with lack of oxygen. Blood pumps through her veins and she decides to fight.

        How could he do this? Why would he do this?

She twist and hicks and bucks, withering to get free, nothing, works. Attempting to scream as he pulls her hair once again he presses on her throat just as a sound emerges. Looking her straight in the eyes she sees nothing but pure blackness, pure evil, pure unknown. She gets lost in the pits of his eyes and she bends down suddenly and with force presses her lips with his. Screaming in his mouth she bites his tongue, angry smears across his face in a bright red mess.

        Oh no…

    As he reaches for his mouth in agony he frees her from his hold. She takes this opportunity to push him and pull herself up. She runs. Running as fast as she has ever run before, she runs hard and fast. Not knowing the field so well she trips in a hole. Trying to free her leg only to find him on top of her again. Pressing her leg into the hole so hard it cracks. The bone sticks out into the hard ground around her. The beginning of a scream leaves her lips just has his hard fist knocks her head. Hard she falls with a thud. Pinning her arms in an awkward ankle incase she comes to, he pushes her out of the hole onto solid ground. Not caring about the blood or the bones he rips her clothing in pieces. Digging his nails into her skin blood streams through every hole in her body. Coming to halfway the pain is unbearable she leaks out a plea for help but is silenced by yet another blow to the head. Squizing her arms hard at the wrist he looks up just as sirens blow across up the pathway.

    He runs. Leaving her behind in a bloody pile of broken bones and torn clothes. Barely breathing her windpipe crushed, cracked rib, two broken arms, a broken leg, a fractured skull, swelling of the brain and a loss of innocence. He leaves nothing but his shadow, his suffocating forever lasting shadow.